


take walks with people you love on days with nice weather

by SerpentineJ



Series: gintama rarepair fic [3]
Category: Gintama
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 09:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14133687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: When Kagura and Okita drag themselves back up from the riverbank after a straight half hour of trading blows, Shinpachi is there to patch them both up.





	take walks with people you love on days with nice weather

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: I was thinking abt it more and more .... okishinkagu  
> Set sometime in the vague future... ages: Kagura is 18, shinpachi is 20 and okita is 22. The shinsengumi exists in edo again or something and odd jobs is fine

"Hey, sadist!" A voice calls from above. Okita raises his head from where he's lying on the soft, weedy grass of the riverbank by the bridge. "That's my spot! Get lost!"

He smiles. This is good, because he'd just been thinking about how he'd like to stretch his legs a bit. Even though it's his day off, he won't say no to a good fight. She's gotten taller and more graceful, almost willowy, but her Chinese accent and dress hasn't changed in the past four years, and neither has her horrible personality or ability to piss him off. She grins at him from where she's looking down at him from the bridge, purple umbrella shadowing her fair skin, and she's leaping down in the next breath, shuttering her parasol and bringing it down towards his head. He twists out of the way and draws his blade. He knows he won't be able to cut her, and that this has become more of a ritual than an actual fight over the years, since neither of them aim to kill, but he lets the bright sunlight taste his steel anyways, sending a glare straight into her eyes. 

They fight. At some point, Kagura pushes Okita into the river and jumps in after him, trying to drown him. He turns the tables on her and locks his knees around her neck. She almost breaks his rib dislodging him with a punch and comes up, soaking wet, in a massive splash of red fabric and glittering river water. The material of her clothing is close-knit to ward off the sun, and it doesn't stick to her frame like in those pin-up magazines, and her sopping wet form and clumped-up hair can't be considered sexy, but she's smiling. Her teeth glint like the edge of his blade. He laughs. His uniform, which he still wears even when he's off-duty, is blacker than black with water. It's grown heavy with moisture. He tries to cut her down, and she catches his sword and almost breaks it, but kicks it away in the last instant, and it falls away onto the riverbank, and they satisfy themselves with beating the shit out of each other with fists for the next twenty minutes.

Finally, they both lie, panting and soaked, on the riverbank.

"That was a pretty good fight," Okita breathes, ribs heaving. "I think you almost broke my leg."

Kagura snorts. 

"I would've if you didn't dodge," she says, and the sun starts to dry their wet bodies. Her bright blue eyes glitter in the light. He props himself up on his elbow and reaches over her torso to grab her purple umbrella, and pushes it open, leans the edge of the fan against the ground so it shades most of her face and arms. She doesn't even look at him. He lies back down.

They lie in silence for a minute.

"Aren't you gonna go get your sword?" She says.

"In a bit," he sighs. "Hijikata's been working me to the bone. Let me lie down for a little bit. I was doing just fine before you came along."

"Huh?" She snickers. "Didn't know you were one to listen to the mayo bastard."

He turns his head to half-heartedly glare at her.

"Kondo-san's backing him up, so I don't have a choice," he mutters. "Besides, it means you see me around less often. You should be grateful."

She opens her mouth to reply, something probably heartbreakingly (if Okita had a heart to break, that is) callous and inconsiderate of his feelings, but before she gets the chance, there's another voice calling out to them.

"Kagura-chan!" The person says. "Okita-san!"

Okita rolls his eyes.

"It's your boyfriend," he says.

"More like your boyfriend," Kagura replies.

Shinpachi slides down the grassy slope. His breath comes in short pants.

"I've been looking for you two," he sighs. Okita rolls his head back to look upwards at him. He's grown taller, and filled out a bit, to the point where his body might be considered that of a half-decent samurai, but one look at his good-for-nothing bespectacled face destroys any kind of coolness he might have had a chance at. He's frowning down at them.

"What is it, eight-eyes?" Okita says.

"That's a weak comeback, even for you," Shinpachi says. He sits down next to Okita. Okita sits up. Kagura rolls over to look past Okita's back at Shinpachi.

"What's up, Shinpachi?" She says.

"You're bleeding, Kagura-chan." Shinpachi sighs. He pulls the bundle tied around his neck off and unwraps it- as Okita had expected, it's filled with gauze, Rand-Aids and a tube of antiseptic paste. "Let me see your leg."

She casually extends one leg, the one that's sluggishly bleeding, over Okita's lap so the wound is within Shinpachi's reach. Her clothes have mostly dried, since they're moisture-repellent and suited for combat in all types of terrain. His uniform is less fortunate. He ignores Shinpachi wrapping bandage around her calf in his lap and unties his uniform cravat, shucking his wet jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. He hopes it'll dry in the sun since it's thin.

"Gross." Kagura says, without any real heat. "What a pervert. Isn't getting naked in public a crime, or something?"

"As if you're one to talk about crime," Okita fires back, rolling up his sleeves. He can see purpling bruises developing on his fair skin already. Shinpachi catches a glance of the reddening spots and sighs.

"You two are too rough," he says, finishing bandaging Kagura's leg and reaching for a tin of bruise paste. "What are you going to do if you really seriously injure someone, huh?"

"That's the point," Kagura and Okita say in unison. Shinpachi rolls his eyes. He uncaps the tin of paste and takes hold of Okita's wrist, rubbing the ointment onto his skin where the flesh looks like it's starting to bruise. Kagura makes a noise of lazy annoyance and leans against Okita's side. Okita grunts in pain.

"That hurts, you brat." He mutters. "You kicked me there, like, ten minutes ago."

"You deserved it," Kagura murmurs. The fight endorphins are wearing off. Her limbs are unwinding. Okita feels a similar kind of sluggishness overcome him, the kind that he only feels lying on a sunny riverbank when it's not too warm but even less cold. Shinpachi's fingertips are warm against his river-chilled skin. The smell of medical ointment mixes with the scent of riverbank weeds and heat off the pavement.

Okita yawns. His pants and boxers are wet, which is slightly uncomfortable, but his lethargy overtakes him, so he figures it's fine to stay here for a little bit before he returns to the Shinsengumi headquarters. Wet clothes never killed anyone. Shinpachi's hand stills on his arm. 

"Can't you guys go a week without fighting?" Shinpachi exhales. Okita snorts.

"Tell that to the China girl," he says, and Kagura makes a noise, but her eyes are closed. Okita looks at her lax face for a moment. He rolls his eyes. He leans down to press a kiss to her forehead, then leans over to do the same to Shinpachi's cheek. Shinpachi flushes red.

"Not in public," he mutters, looking away. Okita chuckles in the complacancy of a sated sadist. He lies back down. Shinpachi lies down next to him.

"Nice weather," he murmurs.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: tumblr: kimishitaatsushi twitter: serpentinej


End file.
